The World Is Alive And

Jesus Is The Masterpiece. The Thieves Are Minor Works. Why Are They There? Not To Frame The Crucifixion, As Some Innocent Souls Believe, But To Hide It.

When People Read His Books They Have An Uncontrollable Desire To Hang The Author In The Town Square. I Can’t Think Of A Higher Honor For A Writer.

It's Strange How Things Happen, Mauricio Silva, Known As The Eye, Always Tried To Escape From Violence Even At The Risk Of Being Considered A Coward, But The Violence, The Real Violence, Can't Be Escaped, At Least Not By Us, Born In Latin America In The 1950s, Those Of Us Who Were Around Twenty Years Old When Salvador Allende Died.

We Interpret Life At Moments Of The Deepest Desperation.

The Pain, Or The Memory Of Pain, That Here Was Literally Sucked Away By Something Nameless Until Only A Void Was Left. The Knowledge That This Question Was Possible: Pain That Turns Finally Into Emptiness. The Knowledge That The Same Equation Applied To Everything, More Or Less.